


Moth to a Flame

by SweetHarty



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Homelessness, Unconventional Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7164425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetHarty/pseuds/SweetHarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot was a Bear.<br/>Nate was a Wolf.<br/>Sophie was a Fox.<br/>Hardison was a Hedgehog.<br/>Parker was an Eagle.<br/>Sunday had always been a Moth, not quite brilliant enough to stand out as a butterfly, but attracted to the flame none the less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moth to a Flame

Hysterical laughing woke me and I sat upright, my tarp crinkling loudly even as the loud laughter tapered off.

“Paid.” The voice said and then there was loud running sounds in my direction, and four people ran past me, only for one to stop at the last minute and yank me up my my arm, a loud, “Get out!” ringing in my ears.

“What?” I asked in confusion, my lethargic legs not moving nearly fast enough for the long haired man yanking on me. And then I was airborne, being held around my middle and being hauled from my temporary abode.

As I saw the last person run from the building it suddenly exploded.

 

* * *

 

 

I awoke to a throbbing head and a sore lip.

“You okay?” I sat upright, my eyes going black as my head rushed.

“W-where?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with my free hand, tugging on the other to test the security.

“Hospital.” As the handsome cowboy answered I squeezed my thumb to my pinkie and slipped the flimsy metal cuff from my hand.

“Printed?” I said, raising my black tipped fingers to my lips where I licked them, grimacing at the taste, and then proceeded to scrub them over the bedding.

The cowboy didn’t answer me and instead addressed his boss, who woke up with a start.

I moved from the hospital bed and into the bathroom, where I studiously avoided the mirror as I went about my business and then scrubbed the ink from my fingertips. I walked from the bathroom patting my hands dry.

“Who’re you?” The scraggly haired, older man asked me, his blue eyes inquisitive on my rather dirty and disheveled state.

“Uh...S-Sunday...Abrams.” I hesitated before giving my maiden name, knowing that while Sunday was an uncommon name, Valencia was an even more uncommon surname.

I knew they noticed the hesitation and I looked down at my hands, the smooth surfaces of my fingertips gleaming back at me, the earlier choice to sear the prints from them having been a success-thus far.

“Nate, I can take these cops.” The man in the corner said earnestly and I blinked incredulously at him, _Could you?_ But I shook off the annoying thought process as another voice came from the wall.

“Don’t you dare, you kill anyone and you screw up my get away!”

Then another, “Yall act like it'll be a cakewalk, I haven't even gotten out of my cuffs yet. And! I have to go to the bathroom.” So a white female, and a black male are in the next rooms, if my vocal stereotyping is correct.

“Besides, we have to worry about our new pet.” The newly named Nate said and I looked around in confusion, did they have a puppy or something around.

“Hey, it wasn’t like I could leave her there!” The cowboy said indignantly, shifting in his seat.

“Eliot, they’re expecting a call right?” Nate asked the cowboy and then as I settled into the first bed I’d had the privilege to be in in the past two years, they formed a plan around me.

“Parker, get me a phone.” Nate said and I heard shuffling around then sounds of retching.

“Is she okay?” I squeaked, the girl sounded wretched.

“She’ll be okay.” Nate respond easily and we waited.

Not two minutes passed before a cell phone was being passed between the vents and into my waiting hands, which I then passed to Nate.

As Nate and Eliot fooled the police into thinking that the man on the other side, _Hardison_ I struggled to remember, was in deep cover, I gathered myself into the sheets and prepared for a short power nap.

I was jolted awake when our hospital room door was slammed open roughly by a black man wearing an unbuttoned polo, I assumed this was Hardison.

 

* * *

 

 

I stood beside Hardison, a bundle of clothes packed into my arms by a compassionate nurse, and waved shily to the police as Hardison placed his co workers into the cop car, one at a time.

He ushered me into the passenger seat, and I perched on the cushion with trepidation, the last time I was here my boyfriend had punched me in the face.

“Seatbelt, pet.” Hardison said as he punched the gas.

 

* * *

 

 

“Whose place is this?” Parker asked in awe, and I struggled to keep hold on my new clothes.

“Mine.” Hardison said, “First class tickets to anywhere but here, coming right up.”

“Let me get that.” Eliot said, his arms coming around and taking the clothes from my grasp.

“You’ll give them back right?” I asked before I completely relinquished my hold, and at his nod and the soft smile he gave me, I released the bundle.

“Hey, pet, why don't you go get cleaned up before the rest of us, alright?” I glanced up at the nickname and felt my eyes widen, I hadn’t had a real warm shower for a whole year. I nodded eagerly and Hardison grinned as he pointed towards the bathroom.

The shower was great. Huge in a way I had never experienced and it had endless hot water that smattered across my skin. I indulged myself and washed three times before I even felt human again, but the best part of the entire experience was the conditioner and the shaving.

When I got out of the shower I realized I:

  1. had nothing to dry off with and
  2. had no new clothes



But my dilemma was quickly solved when someone knocked on the door.

“Hey! You done in there? I’ve got a towel and a change of clothes.” Parker's voice called through and I sighed in a relief, opening the door and letting the blonde through the opening.

She handed me a large black shirt and a pair of sweats that I had to roll up but I was dressed well enough and we walked back into Hardison’s living room.

“Let's go get Sophie!” Parker squealed and faux skipped to the door, leading the way with Nate and Hardison on her heels, while Eliot was looking around in bafflement.

“What the hell’s a Sophie?”

I shrugged and we both walked out.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood. Stop up the access and passage to remorse.” The woman on stage was very...theatrical.

“She is very awful.” Hardison whispered to Nate, While Parker had her face scrunched in confusion.

“Is she injured-like in the head?” She asked and I shrugged in answer.

“This-well, this isn’t her stage. Come on.” Nate said and walked off, the rest of us trailing behind him like some kind of demented chickens.

 

“No, No, I vote No.” Eliot was emphatically saying to Nate, his vest pulled taut across his back.

“Parker’s right,” Nate said, tugging his hands from his pockets and rubbing them together, “Dubenich knows us, and we need a fresh face, Sunday won’t do.” I glanced up at mention of my name and wiggled a sheepish wave at Eliot.

The two met in the middle of the alley way and had quiet words I couldn't hear, then Nate turned around and said something about breaking the law one more time, but I couldn’t hear him as I yawned.

“What did he say?” I asked Hardison quietly but he shook his head laughingly and ushered me into the car.

 

* * *

 

The whole team had piled into the living room, but I had taken over the kitchen.

In the past year I had craved all of three things: Sushi, pizza, and baked caprese salad.

And seeing as Hardison had next to nothing in his expansive kitchen and fridge, I was only able to make Caprese salad.

The entire process took about three to four minutes to prepare and thirty minutes to cook, so after slamming the cookie sheet into the oven at 375 and setting the alarm I walked over to join the team.

They were analyzing the man on screen, a man called Victor Dubenich.

“He worked with my dad.” I hadn’t realized I said, but all four of the schemers turned to me. “They were interns at the same time.” I corrected myself.

“Where?” Hardison asked, and I furrowed my brows to think about it.

“Dan-Don-Darren- something Flemming.” I said inconclusively.

“Ron Flemming, it was the first place he worked.” Parker piped in.

“Any way-Show me the copies Hardison.” Nate said flatly and with a huff Hardison pulled the schematics up.

“Nice titanium wrap and very fuel efficient.” Nate said, or at least thats all I got from what he said. “You pick up things here and there.” He said defensively, and Hardison quirked a brow.

“You pick up a lot of things.” Hardison said in deadpan and Parker gave a sharp ‘HA!’ in response, to my amusement and Eliot’s complete bewilderment.

“Anyway, Bering and Pierson were head-to-head for five years trying to gain the lead, in an industry that worth like eleventy billion dollars, and Pierson was probably going to win with this tech.”

“Dubenich took a shortcut.” Parker said, popping another kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s got a rival that pisses him off so much he’s willing to hire us to steal the designs.” He paused for a moment. “This is good.”

Sophie looked at Nate with a soft expression and then spoke, “What are you thinking, Nate?” Her british accent kind.

“I’m thinking Nigerians.” _Why is it always Nigerians?_ “Yeah, Nigerians will do nicely.” Then he proceeded to walk away.

“Well he hasn’t changed a bit.” Sophie laughed and we all looked at her with a bit of confusion. “Ahem...Chop chop, we’ve got to get ready for the Nigerians, so I think I’ll go now.” She said uncomfortably and then stood, her notepad in hand, and took off in the direction of the room Hardison had given her.


End file.
